But soul, soul, we remind thee yet again, as we cannot understand thy sleep, and thou canst not justify it, we would solemnly beg thee to consider that thy sleep will soon end in ruin. Ah, there are some of you whose hearts I shall never reach. Let me live as long as I may, I shall never see you saved. There are some of you—I have often made you weep, but the Lord has not made you hate your sins. Some of you love drunkenness, and though you leave it for a little season, yet all the entreaties of: the minister and all the pleadings of your conscience cannot keep you from returning like a dog to your vomit, and like a cow that is washed to her wallowing in the mire. Oh, my hearers, there are some of you—I have not quite despaired of you, but I tell you solemnly it has almost come to that. O that ye would know even now in this your day the things which make for your peace. Oh, how I fear, and think I have just cause to fear, that there are some of you who will sit in this Tabernacle till you die, and you will go from this place to hell with my voice of entreaty ringing in your ears. I have prayed for you, and you are not saved; I have levelled sermons at you, and you have not been moved; I have preached plainly to your face against your iniquity, and laid your sin before your eyes, and ye have not repented; I have held up my Master’s bleeding body and ye have not been wooed to love. Ye have been convicted for a season, and ye have hushed the voice of conscience; ye have vowed, and ye have broken your vows; ye have turned again to your folly, and ye are still what you were, senseless, stolid, hardened, dead in sin. I shall not for ever hammer at this granite; not always shall the horses run upon the rock, nor shall we plough there with oxen, for God shall lay judgment to the line and righteousness to the plummet, and where are ye then? Oh! if we knew by express revelations, concerning any man here present that he would be one day in hell, if looking into his eyes we could read there, “That man will dwell for ever in torments,” should we not weep over him? Yet I fear me there are such here. I fear me—may God remove the fear by his grace—I fear me there are such. “Lord, is it I?” let each one say—”Lord, is it I?” Well, sinner, thou shalt go sleeping on. Thou wilt go home to thy house to-day and forget all that I have said; thou wilt come again to-night, but the result will be the same; like the door on its hinges thou wilt turn in and out without a change all thy days. See man, thou wilt listen to my voice, it will be to thee as a pleasing song but nothing more; thou wilt be all thy life as the deaf adder which cannot be charmed. Thou wilt now and then murmur in thy sleep, “The preacher is too earnest, and makes too much noise about these melancholy matters, or he is too prone to dwell on these hard threatenings.” You will return to a deeper sleep, and so continue year by year. How do you approve of the prospect? But stay, let me finish the story. One day there will run a rumor among us, “So-and-so who sat in that pew is dead.” “Did he die in the Lord?” will be our solemn question. And the answer will be, “We fear not; he showed no signs of repentance or of faith in Christ.” Ah then, what must our conclusion be. Well sinner, well, do me this one favor. If thou wilt be damned, let me be clear of thy blood. Do me but this one service—if thou wilt perish let it not be laid to the door of my unfaithfulness. If there be anyone here present, stranger or regular attendant, who will choose his own perdition, I charge thee pay some regard to my earnest protest, for I enter it now before the Lord. Be damned if thou wilt, but do let me first of all stand before you and tell you what damnation means, and tell you that there is a way of salvation. Let me stretch out these hands again and plead with you that ye would come to Christ, that ye might live. “What meanest thou, O sleeper? Arise, call upon thy God,” for it may soon be too late for thee to arise. None will be able to warn thee soon, none will weep for thee soon, none will entreat thee soon. When once the iron gates are shut, and the brazen bolts are drawn; all the friendship of earth or the fury of hell cannot unlock them; the awful gratings of those bolts that shut in souls for ever in fell despair, shall be ever in thine ears, covering thee with hopeless dismay. Now I pray you while yet there is hope. “Awake! arise, or be for ever fallen!”
Lastly, I think I may call upon those present here, who know what it is to be fully awakened, to do their best to awaken others. We read in ancient history of the Sybarites, who were a people so given to slumber that they killed their dogs lest their barking should arouse them, and would have no crowing of the cock to awake them at morn; there are some sinners who would desire to banish every warning friend and faithful monitor far away from them. But I pray you, even though it should be unpleasant, do your best to keep your friends from ruin. We know that when persons are likely to perish through laudanum, and they are falling to sleep, the physician does not hesitate to thrust pins into the flesh, or walk them up and down even though they cry and long to go to sleep. So with you, be not too careful about wounding the feelings or shocking the nerves if you may but win the soul. Better that you should get into discredit for being impertinent with your friends than let their souls perish through your politeness. Be ye not like Agag, who cometh delicately, with “surely the bitterness of death is past.” Like the old Puritans, who availed themselves of every opportunity to rebuke sin and uphold righteousness, so be you instant in season and out of season. If you should save a soul through being too zealous, neither your Master nor the saved one will blame you for it, and at least in heaven it will never be a source of regret to you that you were too active and too diligent. You may have an opportunity to-day. Who can tell whether God may not bless you in it, if you use it? But I pray you use it, whether he bless you or not, lest the neglect of that opportunity should leave blood upon your skirts. By him that bought you with his blood, live to his service—by him that called you unto a holy calling, give yourselves wholly to the winning of souls—by him who from the beginning hath chosen you unto salvation, live as the elect of God, having bowels of compassion. By your life, for which you are responsible—by your death, which may be so near—by Jesus, whose face you hope to see—by hell, into which lost souls are sinking—by heaven, to which the penitent shall rise, which is your hope and your joy—proclaim the word everywhere to men. Tell it, tell it till the skies shall echo it. “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved.” “Cast thy bread upon the waters”—labor, toil, seek, strive, agonize—and God give you his own blessing, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.
“This article originally appeared here at Bible Bulletin Board.”
